


The Awful Edges (where you end and i begin)

by franticatlantic



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franticatlantic/pseuds/franticatlantic
Summary: The boy on the side of the road is just Tyler's type.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for an [anon](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/post/152811818688/just-read-a-very-good-idea-from-tumblr-on) who wanted a serial killer au. please enjoy!
> 
> title is from the song the horror of our love by ludo.

In the dead of night on June 23rd, Tyler speeds along the stretch of back road between Pasadena and Seneca. He bangs on the dashboard to get the AC going again. The air tastes like metal - harsh and biting against Tyler’s tongue.

Every so often, when he wanders over a pot hole or hits a speed bump too fast, the body in the trunk makes a dull thudding sound, like a hammer hitting wood. It makes Tyler grip the steering wheel tighter, press his foot on the gas a little harder.

He’s all keyed up tonight, ready for the kill.

Because the body in the trunk isn’t just a body. It’s a man. And he’s still alive. Knocked out, yes, but still alive. And mostly well. Tyler had to break one of his arms to get him to cooperate and inhale the chloroform. At least that’s what he thinks happened. There really couldn’t be another explanation for the snap he heard twisting the guy’s arm behind his back, right?

And Tyler has broken enough bones before to know the sound of it by now anyway.

The humming of the engine and the clicking of the AC turning itself off and on starts to annoy him so he thumbs the power button on the radio. Smooth jazz. He turns it up high enough to drown out the irritants, but keeps it low enough to hear the sweet sound of the thumping in the trunk.

After a couple miles, he starts to drum his fingers on the steering wheel and doesn’t even bother looking in the rearview anymore. He’s left Seneca far behind and the cops haven’t caught him in all the years he’s been doing this, despite all of Tyler’s murders having been centered in the Ohio area.

Tyler’s too smart for them.

His beat-up old Honda passes under the darkness of a bridge and back into the flashing overhead street lamps, illuminating the road in glowing spheres of cherry yellow.

Up ahead, just along the line of trees, Tyler sees something. He slows, squinting through the windshield at the figure.

It’s a man - a boy, really - standing at the side of the road with his thumb cocked out at the street.

Now, don’t get any wrong ideas. Tyler doesn’t pick up every kid he sees along the numerous country roads of Ohio. Just the ones he takes a liking to. And he doesn’t always kill them.

But this kid. This kid has unruly pink hair, a tight, ill-fitting shirt that barely reaches his middle, camouflage pants, and scuffed black combat boots on. Along with his thumb, his hip is cocked out in what Tyler sees as a flirty gesture. He has a backpack on.

He’s exactly Tyler’s type.

Slowing the car to a roll, Tyler puts the passenger side window down and leans over. The car comes to a stop and the kid steps forward. Tyler sees he’s chewing on something. He leans into the window, dusky eyes glancing around the interior of the car, and he blows a bright pink bubble with the gum held between his teeth.

It pops and the boy sucks it back in. His lips are shiny with what Tyler assumes is lip gloss. He’s never been so lucky.

“Your car smells nice, mister.” The boy’s voice sounds like shiny knives and buzzing drill bits.

“Thanks.” Tyler flicks the air freshener hanging from the rearview. “Where ya headed, kid?”

“Monroe. Was hoping you could take me as far as you’re going?” The kid bats his eyelashes and Tyler almost rolls his eyes at how hard he’s trying. This guy could have been wearing a trash bag and Tyler still would have picked him up, with his candy sweet lips and high cheekbones.

“Hop in,” Tyler says, and leans over to unlock the door.

Some of his colleagues might say he’s playing with fire, two in a night. But Tyler has no plans to kill this pink haired boy. They’ll talk and then maybe have some fun and Tyler will drop him in Pasadena. And it’ll be a loss, but Tyler can’t get tied down anyway. For obvious reasons.

The steering wheel creaks as he pulls the car away from the curb and the boy gets settled, tossing his book bag in the back seat with a heavy clunk. “What you got in there, a sack of bricks?”

Pink hair shrugs, turning his dark eyes on Tyler as he buckles up. “Stuff for school.”

Nodding, Tyler stays silent as they start down the road, making sure the sound of the boy’s bag didn’t awaken the man in the trunk.

He also makes a mental note to drive slower, more careful, to avoid any questions from the boy about what that sound in the trunk is.

“I’m Tyler.” He never has any reservations about introducing himself. With any luck he’ll be far away from this boy before the cops can catch him and question him about the man in the Honda.

“Hi, I’m Josh.” The boy grins blithely, pink hair flopping, pink tongue poking out from between pink lips.

Tyler feels his heart swell, beating soundly against his ribcage like a fluttering bird. It’s been a while since someone has elicited this type of reaction from him.

“So. How old are you, Josh?”

“20. You?”

“ _Twenty?_ ” Tyler blurts, rocking forward in surprise and ignoring Josh’s question.

Josh pushes his hair back with long fingers and gives Tyler a coy smile. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I guess not.”

“Were you hoping for younger?” Josh’s gaze is piercing now, his smile gone.

This question goes unanswered as well because while Tyler hadn’t been expecting Josh to be any older than 18, he really was hoping he would say anything other than the numbers 1 through 17. And he can’t understand why - or what, truthfully - Josh is asking.

The block of trees bordering the road on either side start to close in on him. He listens and thinks he hears a muffled groan from the trunk. He glances sideways, sees Josh staring at him.

“I-“

“Do you mind if I change the station?” Josh is already reaching for the radio.

Tyler shrugs. “Sure.”

There’s something about this boy that unnerves him. That doesn’t happen very often.

Josh chooses a local alternative station and then leans back, drumming his fingers on his thighs. He has this tattoo on one arm and Tyler wants to ask what it’s of.

Instead he asks, “Where are you coming from?”

“Ashland. I have class at my university there.”

“At…” Tyler glances at the dash. “10:30?”

“It was a night class. How about you?” Josh puts a hand on Tyler’s leg, suddenly, and slides it up dangerously close to Tyler’s goods. “A handsome guy like you shouldn’t be out alone so late at night.”

Tyler laughs nervously, hands tight on the wheel. “Where do I even begin with that statement?”

“Start with me calling you handsome. You agree, right?”

“That I’m handsome?”

“Mhm.” Josh squeezes lightly.

Tyler has never had an opinion, really, on his own looks. Has always looked at others before himself. Probably where his obsession with killing came from. “I’m okay.” Whether he means about his looks or as concerns him answering the question even he doesn’t know.

Gripping Tyler’s thigh periodically, Josh’s hand slides up and up. And stops just before the apex of Tyler’s groin. Where it leaves and returns to Josh’s own thigh, drumming softly. “Well, I think so. You wanted to continue?”

“Continue what?”

“With my sentence.” Josh jostles him and Tyler presses a little too hard on the gas pedal. When he slows down he hears the man’s body in the trunk slink forward against the back seats with a thump.

Josh, looking at him, doesn’t bat an eye.

“Yeah. Technically I’m not ‘out’ - I was in my car. And trust me when I say I can take care of myself.”

Through the late night mist, a red light appears and Tyler stops the car as carefully as he can, listening. Now that the steady crunch of gravel has faded away it would be easy for the man in the trunk to wake and make noise. Then he really would have to kill Josh.

A pity.

“And you think it’s safe,” Josh asks, “to pick up random strangers on dark back roads in the dead of night?”

There’s a small Church across the street, at the corner of the intersection. A slow wind blows dead leaves across the road.

Tyler turns to Josh, the music a low hum around them. “Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

Josh turns as well and now they’re both sat nearly sideways in their respective seats, facing each other. Steadily chewing on his gum, Josh stares at him with glassy eyes, then reaches out. He does it quickly, so quick that Tyler barely has time to react. Warm fingers tuck a lock of Tyler’s hair behind his ear, just brushing the lobe before retreating.

“You really are handsome,” Josh sighs, his words sounding like the wind outside.

The light turns green once more and Tyler inches forward and starts them down the road again.

His heart is pounding again, this time from Josh’s touch. The man in the trunk is barely on his mind, save for as a worry that he might wake up, thus forcing Josh away from him.

“What?” Josh giggles sweetly, and Tyler sees him twirling a lock of his tulip-colored hair out of the corner of his eye. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Josh.” Tyler swallows, watching the white lines in the middle of the road fly by like big, solid blocks of cocaine. “Would you like to have some fun when we get where I’m going? Before I move on?”

Josh gives the biggest grin Tyler has seen from him all night, and his piece of gum is stuck as a lump in the pocket of his cheek. He squeezes Tyler’s thigh again. “I would love to.”

Everything about Josh is pink - his bubblegum hair, his skin a pale peachy color, his lips a subtle blush. He makes Tyler - whose life for so long has slid solely on the gradient between black and white - want him for more than just the night.

Maybe not forever, but more than one night. If he were a praying man, he would pray for this boy to wake up with him tomorrow, in his bed, beneath his sheets, with the man in the trunk screaming from down in the basement.

If only that were a possibility.

When they’re a few miles from Pasadena, Tyler rolls into an old 24/7 gas station and stops at the first pump along the road. He idles for a minute, once more listening for any noise from the trunk, and then pulls a twenty from his pocket. He waves it at Josh. “Care to do the honors?”

Josh eyes the twenty before pushing Tyler’s wrist back toward him. “I actually don’t play well with others. You can pay, though, and I’ll get us ready in the meantime?”

Tyler is understandably nervous about leaving Josh alone with his car. But he’ll be inside the station for less than a minute, most likely. And Josh is flashing that sugary pink smile at him and gnashing on his gum in a way that’s showing all his perfectly straight white teeth. So Tyler nods and hops out, passes Josh on his way around to unscrew the gas cap.

The bell above the station door dings stolidly when he enters and he has to rap his knuckles on the counter to wake the sleepy attendant on duty, a pimple-faced kid who can’t be more than 15. “Twenty on eight,” Tyler tells him, and slips the bill under the glass.

The kid makes an affirmative gesture with a limp hand and Tyler heads back out. He has nothing on his mind save how he’s going to broach the subject of having sex with Josh - when, where, how, if Josh wants to top -

Until he sees Josh standing at the back of his car with the trunk open.

Tyler’s heart falls because. Well, fuck. Now he’ll have to kill Josh, too. And if Josh puts up a fight and alerts the attendant inside (however tired the kid may have looked) Tyler’s going to have bullshit on his hands to beat the band.

He walks steadily toward Josh, the chloroform rag a comforting weight in his back pocket. He doesn’t say anything, tries not to even let his feet make any sound against the pavement. But he stops a few feet away, because Josh is holding something.

He’s holding something and staring down into the trunk as if in a daze. The something in his hand is reflective, glinting in the harsh gas station fluorescents.

Tyler is close enough now to see that the expression on Josh’s face is hungry. The man in the trunk is still knocked out.

Josh raises his gaze to Tyler and smiles almost manically. His pink lips could be red in the darkness. “I didn’t know _this_ is what you had in mind when you mentioned having fun.” The thing in Josh’s hand is a knife. He flicks it with a twitch of his wrist. “So. You wanna kill him? Or can I?”

**Author's Note:**

> always taking requests at my [tumblr](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/).


End file.
